Revolutionary
by RogueMudblood
Summary: (AU historical fiction) The colonies are in upheaval. They've been in a state of war since 1689 with only brief periods of peace. New England once again faces a prolonged conflict, seeking aid from an old adversary. Embroiled with British and native forces, the colonials find a new element rising. Will it prove to be friend, or foe? (No romance.)
1. Prologue

_I do not own Twilight. I make no profit from this work of fiction._

Re-written from version posted 2014-07-07. The previous author's note is viewable on the Facebook page. I _may_ choose to put it at the very, very end of the story.

_**Author's Note**: This is AU. Some elements will not conform to canon. You may disagree with my interpretation of some historical persons – feel free to offer debate._

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><p>"Please." The man's whining was starting to get on Carlisle's last nerve. "I'm not what you think I am."<p>

The crack of the whip sliced through the air, screams issuing from the man whose pleas fell on deaf ears. Though he cringed at the sound of the flesh tearing open, Carlisle held no pity for the creature whose eternal punishment would soon be upon him. A hand landed on his shoulder, alerting him to a witness to the proceedings.

"Very good, son. The vermin must be exterminated." Carlisle nodded, the whip in his hand snapping towards the bared flesh before him, another slice of vibrant red revealed as the man's skin parted. Though the screams were certain to have echoed into the neighboring alleyway, none came to aid the wailing man. Snaps of the whip increased in speed, the crack soon covering any sound from the prisoner. As the body fell limp in its bonds, Carlisle dropped the whip, sweat pouring from his brow as a result of his exertions.

"Is he dead?" The question was asked between pants.

"I am most certain if he is not, he soon will be." With his father's assurance, Carlisle cleaned the leather of the whip on the clothes that had been torn from the man's back, the crimson blood staining the white garments. The pair left their concealed chamber, neither bothering to loose their prey from his bonds.

Aware that his tormentor had left, the man allowed himself to weep, his sobs covering the sound of the footfalls that approached him. He felt the chains loosening and was barely able to extend his hands in time to keep his face from crashing into the stones below him. He rolled to his side, unsure of the intent of the person standing over him.

"If you've come to kill me, then get on with it." The words were wheezed out, his voice hoarse from the screams that had been torn from his throat by the sting of the lashes he had received.

A female laugh greeted his statement, his neck craning a bit to try to get a better view of her. "Oh, no, I'm not here to kill you, werewolf." The light illuminated her face as she leaned down to help him stand. Hoisting him up with strength well hidden by her petite stature, she encouraged him to lean on her. "I simply refuse to let another of our kind fall to the Cullens."

He sniffed lightly, his nose wrinkling as her acrid odor permeated his senses. "_Our_ kind? You're a vampire – not one of my kind."

Her chuckle echoed lightly against the stone walls. Leaning her head out of the doorway as she propped him against her, she grinned. "We are all creatures of the night, and we all prey upon the humans." He shrugged, giving a brief nod to her statement. "Then it only makes sense that we decide together what's to happen to this menace which hunts us, capturing our kind only to torture us."

She pulled him alongside her as they walked out into the darkened street. Ambling along, he could not help his curiosity. "We? Surely you do not mean just you and I." Smiling, she shook her head, helping him to walk down the cobblestone path.

A man in dark robes stepped forward from the building that blended into the darkness. A hood covered his head, his cape billowing out as he approached them swiftly. Stepping to the other side of the injured wolf, he took over the support that the woman had been providing. She swept open the entrance to the building, ushering the pair inside before bolting the portal behind them.

Limping into the main room, the wolf's eyes widened as he took in the group gathered there. The scent of his own kind mingled with that of vampires and of the magic and conjurations of witches and warlocks. He shook his head viciously, trying to expel the foreign odor.

"The longer you're here, the more you become accustomed to that stench." The female wolf approaching him nodded to his warlock escort, the man stepping away from the pair.

"What if I do not wish to grow fond of it?" His words were barely more than a growl, the pain of his injuries coloring his tone.

She chuckled. "I never said you should. However, we are here for an important reason."

"And what could that possibly be?"

The female vampire who had unchained him stepped onto the raised dais, a small snarl drawing the attention of those assembled. "Well then. As they've continued despite our plain warnings, as evidenced by our newest arrival," her hand made a sweeping gesture towards him with the statement, "then it is time to decide. Which of us will have the honor of killing the impertinent child and avenging all of those who have fallen?"

* * *

><p>They had come to the house, having overheard his father's words regarding purity. It did not matter to them that he had been discussing the elimination of the abominations that had made themselves at home throughout Europe. Too many did not believe in the creatures, thinking them merely tales to scare children. His father had known better – had even caught one of the vampires feeding and saved the poor woman's life. They had been hunting the dark creatures since that night.<p>

It did not help that they had known of secret places in the streets of the city, that his father had told others of these places. The crown, recently reinstated, sought out all the dissenters, the commissioners who had signed the decree supporting the death of Charles I. With his father's words of purity, they had assumed that the pair were Puritans, hiding the men who sought to flee the justice that would have them tried and sentenced to death for their crime.

Carlisle had not realized that he had been followed to the hidden room in which he had tried to exorcise the demon from the werewolf he had captured. Because he had taken pains to hide the man from being identified by any passing them, their accusers had used that as proof that they were smuggling the enemies of the crown out of Britain. He had protested, as had his father, but the pair would not reveal the identity of the third man. His father was sentenced to death. Carlisle was to be exiled. He had glared at the men who had passed judgment on them, his ire giving rise to the foolish plan to escape.

He had broken free from them, heading through the streets towards the hidden areas he knew so well. A group was waiting to take him back into custody at the first place he had considered sequestering himself. Seeing them sealed his conviction that one of the men his father had trusted with their quest had betrayed them. Able to avoid them, he scampered through the alleys of London, certain he would find a place that would allow him to hide from his zealous pursuers. Leaning against a wall, he used the shadows to keep himself hidden from the king's men.

The hand that clamped down over his mouth caught him by surprise, the strength in the grip proving difficult for him to overpower. His breathing became labored as the side of one finger pushed against his nostrils, obstructing the air flow. A voice in his ear urged him to be silent and cease struggling. "I will help you." One of his hands reached for the bottle of sanctified water he kept tied to his belt only to find that the chase had managed to somehow dislodge it. Carlisle nodded briefly, stopping his struggles to free himself. The hand loosened its grip over his mouth, allowing him to breathe more easily.

Carlisle found himself guided into deeper shadows. Even though some part of him knew what would happen once he realized that his captor was far stronger than a human could be, he had still hoped that he might be able to free himself. Feeling the fangs sink into his skin, he knew that he had never had a prayer. The life slipped out of him, leaving him feeling weak and drained. As his consciousness slipped away, he felt burning pain arching throughout his body. Starting at his neck, it radiated through each of his limbs and down into his chest.

"Don't you pass out yet, Carlisle Cullen. I want you to be awake for this." The words sounding in his ear were followed by the arm banded about him pulling his body upright.

His eyes were trying to roll into the back of his head, and he fought the sensation as he felt more people surrounding him. Realizing he did not have the strength to keep himself from losing consciousness, he allowed his body to slump. He heard the tongue clucking in disapproval, but was not able to muster even a groan in rebuttal.

"What do we do with him now?"

Carlisle's body slipped to the stones of the street. Barely managing to hold on to any awareness of his surroundings, he heard several grumbles, though he was unable to discern exactly what they were saying. One voice rang out above the others, the words clear.

"Put him on the ship with the traitors. They're convinced he's one of them, so let him travel with them. If the humans are lucky, he'll do their work for them once he wakes." He felt himself being lifted, then his limbs being bent as if to fit him inside a crate. Carlisle slipped into oblivion shortly afterward, never hearing the crate being sealed.

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><p>Eyes as black as pitch reflected the stars shining in the heavens above the ship. He stared out onto the deck from his place in the shadows, the darkness concealing his presence from the two older men walking along the deck. For two weeks he had fought this urge, despising what he had become. Realizing he was not going to be able to kill himself, and he could no longer keep from feeding, Carlisle tried to find the ones most deserving of death. One of the two waved the other off, vowing to meet him later. Carlisle waited for the one mortal to leave before moving in to strike.<p>

He wrestled the man to the deck, the maneuver requiring virtually no effort on his part. Sinking his fangs into the underside of the old man's arm, Carlisle felt the pain subsiding with each long draw he took of the man's essence. As he felt the man's life slipping from his body, he heard the whispers that would have been inaudible to human ears. The recitation of a prayer for the dead from the Book of Common Prayer caused a hysterical reaction within him. Draining the blood more quickly, the whispers ceased.

Backing away from the corpse, Carlisle bowed his head, his hands running through his hair, tugging on the strands to the point of causing pain. He stumbled below decks to the bunk he had secured for himself. The journey had only begun, really. It would be more than a month before they reached the colonies. Laying down on the worn mattress, he closed his eyes tightly before opening them, crimson glowing in the darkness of the room. There would be more deaths on this voyage before the ship came to port. His journey was only beginning.


	2. Salem

_I do not own Twilight. I make no profit from this work of fiction._

**Author's Note:** _This is AU. Some elements will not conform to canon. You may disagree with my interpretation of some historical persons – feel free to offer debate. This chapter isn't intended to be preachy, but it must be remembered that Carlisle's father was an Anglican pastor. As such, certain ideologies would have been second nature to him._

_Chapter one has been revised. If you read it previously, you may wish to re-read it._

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* * *

><p>At first he had been angry. If he had been taken before Parliament, or before the King, he might have been able to argue his case. He had not gotten the chance. Being turned had changed more than just his diet. He had become everything he hated, and he despised his very existence because of it. He loathed himself to the point that he had tried to commit the unforgivable sin.<p>

Stepping into the sunlight had given him a great shock. The sight of his skin sparkling had at first made him think he was slowly catching fire. When the sparkle had continued and no pain had resulted, he was both confused and angry. Carlisle had wanted nothing more than to end the horrifying life he knew he would have to lead. He had held no qualms in destroying the monsters. Yet when it came to murdering humans in order to survive, he could not reconcile himself to the act.

Finding he would not be able to destroy himself with sunlight, he had walked to the nearest church. With his skin glittering, the congregation had assumed he was a fallen angel. His unearthly beauty had awed them immediately. The added ethereal aspect of his skin in the light had not given them any reason to believe he was only a mortal. His skin had resumed its normal pallor once he was inside the cathedral and he approached the font, dipping his hands in the sanctified water. Carlisle had wanted to openly weep when he found that neither sanctified ground nor holy water affected him as he and his father had long thought they would harm nosferatu.

Not knowing how he would be able to end his existence, he had left the church quickly. The scent of the parishioners' blood had been strong, and he had found himself nearly unable to resist. He may have no longer been a child of God, but he would not be the cause of these losing their faith.

He had fled the Boston harbor, heading north. Keeping to the slightly less densely populated areas, he had managed to feed from the dregs of society. Harlots had already given their souls to Satan, and though he had not intended to make a pact with Beelzebub handing over his immortal life, he would not be responsible for the premature death of the chosen of God. Though he did not condone murdering them, Carlisle had often fed from those whose hands he found branded with the thief's 'T'.

Despite finding many recently hanged corpses, he had abstained from drinking the blood of those already dead. The only exception he had made without remorse with respect to ending a human life had been those who were left in the pillory overnight. He had no qualms in ending the lives of those who mistreated women and children, those who caused the deaths of others. The townsfolk in the places where he would end such criminals assumed that the punishment was from God. As Carlisle kept to the shadows and night as much as he was able, he never did correct any of them, though he could easily have argued he was the devil's collector instead.

After three decades wandering about the Massachusetts coastline, he had found himself in the town of Salem. He had heard the reports of young women being in a daze, and had easily recalled his ability to entrance anyone when he stepped into the sunlight. The widespread panic that had erupted throughout the towns he had managed to skirt had not escaped him. On more than one occasion, the more zealous villagers had ventured into the forest. Though their intention was to search for the witches the girls had been accusing, several had inadvertently run across him instead. Carlisle had been careful in dispatching them, making use of his inhuman speed to keep them from clearly seeing him as he attacked. Occasionally he would leave one just conscious enough to hear his parting words.

"_There are worse things in this world than witches."_

Entering Salem under over of darkness, he had been careful not to draw too much attention to himself. He had found the town's inn with rooms to spare, while the town's jail seemed to be filled to capacity. Carlisle relied on his hearing to give him any information he might need rather than asking questions which would be deemed suspicious. Sitting at a table in the main room with a glass half filled with ale, he overheard mundane conversations, tidbits about the seamstress not having the clothes done up right and other such nonsense. When one of the younger women began talking, he had been careful to keep his face hidden. Her words gave more away than she realized.

"He said we could have more if we brought him food." The whinging from the girl at the edge of the group caused the others to glare in her direction.

"He wants untainted meat. That's what he said." The speaker had apparently assumed that a self-assured tone would mean her words were above question. The scoff that answered her declaration proved otherwise.

"Yes, and we're just _so_ tainted, young as we are and never having seen a thing beyond our own town." Without looking up Carlisle could clearly picture the rolling eyes that must have accompanied the cynical statement. "Look, they're going to start the trials next week. Here it is the end of May and already they've arrested people we never named. They haven't listened to me about any of them – claiming that I'm denying their involvement because I'm still under their power."

Tittering from several girls followed the statement. "Well, you might be under _his_ power, but that's a different matter, isn't it?" More insipid giggling filled the air, Carlisle cringing as the high pitch aggravated his sensitive ears.

"Oh, grow up, will you?" A few gasps sounded through the group, but none of them spoke to contradict her. "We were all turned by a pretty face. A pretty man who has delivered none of what he's promised to us."

The sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor caused Carlisle to look up, sipping some of the ale to cover the movement. "You best be careful." Standing with her nose nearly touching that of the dissenter, the girl elaborated on her implied threat. "You never know just who might be the next person found guilty of witchcraft." The speaker turned, her hair flaring out behind her so that the tips slapped the cheek of the other girl. The group traipsed from the inn, leaving the one girl standing alone, rubbing her stinging face.

He allowed his footfalls to sound as he approached her, waiting for her gasp as she turned to face him. She did not disappoint. Gently removing his hood, Carlisle watched her with some boredom. Her nearly defensive pose melted immediately to acquiescence. He lifted a finger to her face, gently caressing her cheek. "So easily swayed." She sighed, her eyelids drooping. Resisting the urge to roll his own eyes, he gave her a soothing smile. "Tell me, child, where is the man you and your friends were talking about?"

Giggles erupted from her. Carlisle fought the urge to frown at her, letting his finger and thumb tug on a lock of her hair gently. She kept her eyes downcast as she moved the hair from his grasp, tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, a shy smile blossoming on her face. "I can take you to him." He smiled and nodded, looping her arm through his as they turned to leave the inn.

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><p>Carlisle had listened to her insipid high-pitched laughter through the entire journey. She had led him out of the town and into the nearby woods. When they were at least a mile into the thick trees, they came upon a clearing. Her demeanor changed immediately. She turned on him, pulling a dagger from a sheath hidden in her waistband.<p>

Though the girl's movements would have surprised any mortal, they were interminably slow to the vampire. Moving almost the moment that her muscles had tensed in order to turn on him, Carlisle merely smiled as he vanished back into the trees. He watched her as she turned in circles, her blade dropping as she relaxed her stance. Confusion wrinkled her brow. The sound of a tree branch cracking behind her caused the girl to twist sharply so she was facing that direction, her dagger once more raised in preparation to attack. The blade lowered quickly as her visitor stepped into the moonlight.

Carlisle knew with merely a glance that he was staring at another vampire. Where he had been able to guess before his own turning, the increased acuity of his senses allowed him to determine what type of creature he face no matter where he traveled. The nearly black eyes of the man standing in the clearing left no question as to his species.

Circling the girl, the other vampire emitted a low growl. The girl cringed, lowering her head in submission, gibbering nonsense when she assumed he would attack her. He laughed at the last, wrapping a hand in her hair and yanking her head backwards, exposing her throat. "I thought you lot wanted me to … _attack_ you." He leaned forward a bit, licking her neck lightly. Placing a kiss over her carotid artery, he raised his head. "There really is enough for both of us, you know."

She stuttered her confusion, the sound ending in a squeak of dismay as Carlisle entered the clearing once more. "I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to share meals with you."

Smiling, the other vampire inclined his head slightly. "Guillaume Archambault. Recently transplanted from Acadia."

Carlisle's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you French despised us English after that whole business at Port Royal two years back."

Guillaume threw his head back, laughter echoing in the clearing. "What care we for the affairs of mortals." Smiling, Carlisle nodded his agreement. "Now, I've given you my name, good sir."

"Ah, yes. Please forgive my manners." As he spoke, he had moved closer to the girl, whose skirts now reeked of urine as she had allowed her fear to overtake her completely. "Carlisle Cullen, recently of London."

"Thought you'd get better pickings further away from the overly zealous Englishmen, eh?" Guillaume laughed at his own joke, stopping only when Carlisle had not joined his amusement.

"No. I turned at sea."

Consumed with laughter once more, the vampire loosened his hold on the girl. "Oh, that must be a marvelous story! Some day you must share it with me."

Carlisle plastered a placating smile on his face. "Perhaps." Making use of Guillaume's distracted state, he pulled the girl gently towards him, wrinkling his nose at her odor. Once her wrist fell completely from the other vampire's grasp, he wrapped her tightly in his arms, rushing into the trees. Guillaume's outraged bellows echoed behind them, the sound of his feet as they tramped through the forest in pursuit also reaching Carlisle's ears.

As he raced through the woods, feeling the limbs slash his face, he noted the way the branches left mild scrapes in their wake on the girl's skin. He reigned in the desire to feed on her. It would have been a simple matter to sate his hunger. Carlisle was practical enough to realize that it would also make him vulnerable to the other vampire – if he had even been callous enough to simply end her life in such a way. Though he tried to keep the scent from bringing the other vampire directly to them by covering a good distance, he recognized that it would only be a short time before Guillaume made his way to them.

Hoping they had covered enough area to deter the other vampire for a time, Carlisle made his way back to the clearing, holding the girl tightly to him. Taking a moment to double over and expel the small amount of ale he had consumed at the inn, he expected that the disgusting dose of reality would have jarred the girl from her daze. Looking back up once his stomach had been emptied, he found her still in a robotic trance. He sighed before trying a more mundane method of bringing her attention back to their predicament. "I know you brought us here through the most roundabout route you could. What's the quickest way back to town?" She looked up at him, her face reflecting complete bewilderment. He was not entirely certain she had understood him. Hands firmly grasping her upper arms, he shook her a bit. "Focus, child! Unless you want to end up his dinner, tell me which way leads back to town!"

Her arm lifted to point him to the most direct path, but she found herself unable. Guillaume had entered the clearing, tearing her arm off at the elbow as he forged a path between them. The sight of the blood seeping from the wound caused the young girl to faint, her body a dead weight in Carlisle's arms. Lowering her to the ground, he watched as his opponent casually discarded the girl's limb, tossing it into the trees.

"Just because she's missing a limb … Well, part of one, anyway – that doesn't mean we can't dine. I'm still willing to share. I understand the tendency of you jeune hommes to try to hoard food. Me, I spread mine out a bit." He grinned malevolently with the declaration. Carlisle kept his face devoid of emotion.

"Is that why the girls were dazed?"

Guillaume's smile widened. "Of course, mon ami! Why feast on them one by one when you can have a little from all of them at once?" Carlisle forced himself not to grimace, but was unable to keep a slight frown from his face. Noting the expression, the other vampire's congenial mood vanished. "You need not be so arrogant, gamin."

The forceful blow to his chest had been unexpected, knocking Carlisle from his feet. Leaves crunched underneath his considerable weight as he landed, his body forming a small crater in the moist earth. Quickly rising from the ground, he bared his teeth before charging Guillaume. The two vampires were a blur of movement, punches and kicks being countered before they could adequately connect to damage the other party. They stood on roughly the same patch of dirt throughout the exchange, too consumed with their own quarrel to notice the young girl who approached with an older man from the town. Seeing her dismembered friend lying on the ground and the two men fighting so close to her body, the girl screamed. The horrified sound echoed through the trees, bringing the man out of the trance to which he had apparently succumbed.

As he raced back to town, the two vampires ceased their battle. The lack of movement allowed the frightened girl to finally see them clearly. Guillaume's left hand was firmly anchored in Carlisle's hair at the base of his skull, pulling the younger vampire's head to the right in order to expose his neck. The fingers of Carlisle's left hand were pushing forcefully against Guillaume's right cheek, keeping the older vampire from finding the best angle from which to feed. The pair appeared as a comical farce, somewhat frozen in shock as they were for the moment before the girl turned to run.

Guillaume released his hold on Carlisle, intent on chasing after the girl. Determined to keep her from an untimely death, the younger vampire leaped towards his quarry, catching the older nosferatu around the waist. His momentum brought them both to the ground, Guillaume growling as he rolled to fend off Carlisle once more.

"Stop, you old fool! Think for a minute. There's absolutely nothing that can be done about _that_ girl!" Carlisle pointed back to the cooling corpse of the one who had brought him to the clearing. "If two go missing in one night, whatever you've managed to carve out for yourself here – no matter how distasteful _I_ may find it – will disappear. They won't stop at witches. These mortals will start seeking you out."

Guillaume's eyes narrowed as he considered the truth behind the younger vampire's words. He snarled, relaxing his muscles as he threw his head against the ground beneath him. Sighing, he sat up, pushing Carlisle off of his legs. He glared at the younger vampire, his brow furrowed in thought. His voice was filled with venom when he finally spoke. "I'm going to have to move on from this little hamlet, aren't I?"

Standing, Carlisle swept the dirt from his clothes before offering Guillaume a hand. "Afraid so." The older vampire accepted his hand, a moue of distaste firmly set on his face as he stood. "What exactly did you do to them?"

Guillaume grinned, looping his arm through Carlisle's as he guided them through the forest, away from Salem. "Why, I just promised those young girls the one thing every young girl wants – eternal beauty. They saw what happened to the older women in the village as their looks waned. Those girls merely wanted assurances that their own beauty would never fade. They brought me meals, men and women alike who would then claim to have seen the devil himself." Carlisle groaned. "I see you're aware of the puritan ideology then. Yes, they assumed those people were cavorting with Satan, conveniently overlooking the barely healed cuts on their arms. Or, when they did notice them, crediting the injuries to blood rites in order to conjure demons."

"Why cut them?" Carlisle's confusion showed plainly on his face, the emotion reflected in his actions as he tripped over a small rock lying in his path. Guillaume snickered, helping to right the younger vampire, before he answered.

"That many newborns would completely eliminate any viable feeding ground, and that many murders would do the same. I cut them, holding a cup the girls were supposed to bring with them underneath the wound, and drank their blood that way. No venom enters their blood, no risk of newborns."

"Brilliant." Carlisle's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I rather liked it myself." Exiting the woods, the two found themselves approaching a beach along a rocky shoreline. "I suppose this is where we part ways, mon ami." Guillaume offered his hand to the younger vampire, grinning widely as Carlisle took it and gave a firm shake. "Until we meet again."

Watching the older vampire run off along the coast until the landscape blocked his view, Carlisle shook his head in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Until we meet again. Friend."


End file.
